Tuesday, April 15, 2014

I have no interest in watching the memorials in Boston
today. I don’t want to read the
retrospectives in the papers. And most
importantly, I don’t want to see the pictures and videos from the afternoon of
April 15, 2013. As a nightly news
producer, these are tough demands. Right now, there are no fewer than six
television monitors in my peripheral vision showing these very images. I am sure I will have to show them tonight.

A few months back, a friend and fellow Boston Marathon
runner sent me an advance copy of a book by the first newspaper reporters to
arrive at the scene of the blasts. When
I got word it was in the mail, I looked forward to reading it. I’m sure it’s a fantastic book by two
excellent journalists. But, once I saw
the cover with its billowing smoke and panicked faces juxtaposed against the
backdrop of one of my favorite sites in the world, I knew I didn't want to go
any further. Not now.

I’m not saying that retrospect and reflection are not valid coping methods. They just are not mine. The truth is, for the past year, I have
thought very little about the 117th running of the Boston marathon
instead focusing as much as possible on the 118th running. For me, the only way to cope with what
happened last year is to move forward. I loathe that you can’t mention the Boston
Marathon without mentioning the words “terror”, “bombs” or “murder” in close
proximity. I detest that the actions of
two young punks have come to define this day.

We can’t forget what happened. We can’t forget the lives that were lost or
the lives that were ruined. But, we can
reclaim the Boston Marathon. What has the
Boston Marathon been about since 1897?
It’s been about the power of the human body and the triumph of the human
spirit. That’s what we will be celebrating Monday
when one million people fearlessly line the streets from Hopkinton to Boston to cheer on 36,000 runners who aren’t afraid of the pain produced by
running 26.2 miles in one stretch. Crossing the finish line that day will end a
painful chapter in what has for the last 118 years been a beautiful story.

Thursday, April 10, 2014

Since literally stopping in the middle of a run and deciding
not to race the Boston Marathon more than a month ago, I have spent a lot of
time thinking about how I would experience the race this year. With a
non-refundable down payment already made on apartment near the finish line, not
attending is not an option. Even without
the down payment, not attending is not an option. Even though I am physically unable to race at
the level I’d like, I’m going to attend in some other capacity to be part of
what will undoubtedly be an historic one.

Originally, I thought I’d spectate. Why not? It’s a role just as important as the
participants’. Without the support of
the massive crowds lining the streets from Hopkinton to Copley Square, the
Boston Marathon is just a couple thousand crazy people going on a group run and
clogging up traffic. I also contemplated
throwing myself into full work mode. I
could take pictures, tweet, field produce, whatever the mother ship
needed. Then, I remembered Allen
Strickland. I mean, I didn’t ever forget
Allen Strickland. He’s a pretty
memorable dude. But, I remembered he was
running and for him, April 21st was going to be an important
day for two reasons.

Let’s go back to 2012.
After working his ass off to qualify, Allen, who’s excellent blog is
appropriately titled “Allen’s Road to Boston”, had finally made it into the
field. He was in great shape and
prepared to run a personal best. What he
and most of the other runners in the field were not prepared for was the heat
and humidity. The Reader’s Digest
version is that Allen had a bad day. The
heat took its toll and Allen limped across the line, head hanging, in just over
five hours. It’s a sad story of a man’s dream to conquer Boston being stolen by
the one factor a marathon runner can’t control.

That said, Allen’s official finisher’s photo is one of the
most unintentionally hilarious things I've ever seen. The juxtaposition of emotions happening here
could not be more perfect.

Also hilarious, an incident that happened to Allen
late in the race. His words:

“Somewhere
very late in the race – I can’t be sure where as I was no longer coherent – a
belligerent drunk girl angrily berated my fellow walkers and me. “This is
the Boston $%^&ing marathon, the greatest marathon in the world! Show
some respect and run! Jog it out!! Jog it the #$%! out!”

I spent the day after that race recovering with Allen, and
he could not have handled his misfortune better. Allen has been able to laugh about a day that
unarguably sucked from the get go.
Perhaps that’s why he formed Team JITFO; the acronym inspired by that drunk girl somewhere in Greater
Boston. On April 21st, he’ll
give the World’s Greatest Marathon another shot and he’s allowed me to run
alongside him. Allen’s goal is to set a
personal best and if I can help in any way, it will make me feel like I went
back to Boston with a purpose. Granted,
my running over the past month has been minimal, but I think I have enough
fitness to keep Allen from having to revive me somewhere near Newton.

Since I last posted, I've gone from being extremely
depressed about my Boston decision to being extremely excited about experiencing
Boston in a different way. At least once
on every run I think about how electric the atmosphere is going to be that
weekend and about being a part of what is bound to be a day I will never
forget. So, thanks to Allen for letting
me tag along. If we get tired, we know
what to do.